


The Hoodie

by ladyoneill



Series: Lady O's Teen Wolf Bingo Stories [94]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst and Humor, Happy Ending, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Wolf Derek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-29
Updated: 2014-12-29
Packaged: 2018-03-04 03:33:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2907785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyoneill/pseuds/ladyoneill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek's been missing for a few days and Stiles goes to the loft to look for him, only to be jumped by a large, black wolf that doesn't seem to know him at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Hoodie

**Author's Note:**

  * For [moon01234](https://archiveofourown.org/users/moon01234/gifts).



> Written for moon01234 for the Multifandom Christmas Exchange, who wanted a Little Red Riding Hood trope with Derek/Stiles--they get there in the end. Also fits the Hurt/Comfort bingo prompt: Bodyguard because that's basically what wolfy Derek is doing.

It had been three days and no one had seen or heard from Derek. He wasn't answering his phone or texts--neither of which was unusual because the older wolf seemed to hate technology, and vice-versa--but when he missed a pack meeting he'd been the one to suggest they start having, Stiles started to worry.

Having sneakily made a key to the loft--really, putty, an impression, and a semi-shady key maker were all one needed--Stiles headed over there and found it dark and deserted. Flipping on the lights he looked around for signs of a struggle, but couldn't see any difference in the place. 

Except, the bed wasn't made.

Derek was extremely anal about tidiness and he always made his bed.

Frowning, Stiles snooped around the chest of drawers and the bathroom and nothing appeared to be missing. The drawers were full of neatly folded clothes--seven pairs of skintight jeans, seven Henley tops, seven pairs of black boxer briefs--Stiles may have lingered over those. The bathroom counter held enough hair products for half a dozen men.

Baffled, he returned to the main room then into the kitchen and it was there that he found Derek's phone--dead--wallet and leather jacket. No keys.

Hurrying out of the loft and locking the door behind him, Stiles ran down the stairs, out the door and around the back to the meager parking lot.

The mom-mobile sat in its usual space and Stiles remembered that the loft door had been locked. So, maybe Derek went for a walk or run?

Three days ago?

Worried, he texted his results to Scott, not surprised at all that there wasn't an answer, and tried to think of places Derek might be. As he walked back to the jeep, a chill wind kicked up and he shivered. The day had been unusually warm for January, so he'd left his jacket at home. Digging around in the back of his car he found an old red hoodie and put it on, flipping up the hood as well and pulling the drawstrings tight. It was worn thin at the elbows and a bit small, but it was still warm and comforting.

About to head to the station to see if his dad could do anything, he heard a howl that made him startle and drop his keys which immediately slid under the jeep. Nervous, because the howl hadn't sounded very far away, he dropped to his knees to fish around beneath the jeep, wondering if he had a flashlight somewhere and why Derek was too cheap to replace the never working parking lot lights and who had howled--there were way too many werewolves in Beacon Hills these days, though Satomi's pack members were usually much more discreet, Scott was probably out with Kira doing things that would make him gasp not howl, and Liam sounded more like a scalded cat than a wolf.

Peter might be howling, but the cells beneath Eichen House were soundproofed.

Maybe it was Derek. Maybe he was in trouble. Maybe that damn unmade bed that kept nagging at his mind meant something.

Stiles' fingers closed around the keys and he yelped in triumph.

And a low growl rumbled from just a few feet behind him.

Terror hit him and slowly, very slowly, he turned around on his knees.

Padding across the parking lot towards him was a large, black wolf with electric blue eyes.

"Derek?" Stiles stammered, because it had to be, but...

The wolf stopped about six or seven feet from him, bared its fangs and growled. The rumbling sound went right through Stiles and he cringed back, hands instinctively going up to protect his face.

Because there was no recognition in those eyes.

The wolf didn't move any closer, though, and Stiles tried to breathe evenly and stay, at least on the outside, calm. Slowly he lowered his hands and the wolf growled again, saliva dripping from its fangs, claws clicking on the concrete as it took another step.

"Derek? Are you in there? Derek?" Stiles whispered, trying to keep his voice soothing, worry and fear making him sweat despite the cold winds blowing which brought the scents of canine and blood into his face. Another step brought the wolf into the light from the jeep's open door and Stiles moaned in terror at the sight of blood on those sharp, sharp claws.

Shit, shit, shit! 

Cautiously lowering the hand not holding his keys to his pocket, he tried to fish out his phone, but then realized it was in his other front pocket which meant he had to put down the keys.

As he did so, trying not to breathe or make a sound, they clinked against the concrete, and the wolf was on him.

Stiles couldn't even scream, just shot his hands up again, rolling forward into a ball as the weight of the wolf landed on his back, claws scrabbling at his sides and butt. All the air driven from him, eyes wide with terror, face smashed against one very hairy thigh, Stiles knew he was dead.

Except...

The claws didn't drive into him, the fangs didn't bite. He could feel the heat of the wolf's body pinning him down, the moist heat of its breath across his hips, then a cold nose snuffled under his hoodie and shirt, pressing into the small of his back.

"Ohgodohgodohgod."

He was going to be bitten or smothered or eaten or something!

Somehow the wolf--Derek, it had to be Derek, but he was having a hard time thinking of him as his friend--pushed up the back of his hoodie and shirt and nuzzled against his bare skin, warming its nose and sending shivers of fear through Stiles. When he felt a rough tongue lap along his spine, Stiles squealed.

"I can't taste good, buddy. Come on, you really don't want to eat me. I haven't showered since this morning and I've got to be funky smelling and tasting," he babbled.

The wolf huffed.

Was that amusement?

"Derek?" Oh fuck, come back!

Heavy, strong paws grabbed at him, rolling him on the dirty concrete like he was a rolly polly bug and somehow Stiles found himself on his back with the wolf's head on his chest, its body pressed up hard and heavy to his own. 

The wolf closed its eyes and huffed again, hot breath hitting his face.

"Ew, you need a mint."

One blue eye blinked open, then, when Stiles froze in terror again, closed.

Panting more harshly than the wild animal half sprawled across him, Stiles stared up at the half moon and just hoped that the clouds rolling in didn't herald rain.

Wet wolf fur had to stink, and Stiles really didn't need to catch his death of cold, though that was probably preferable to being eaten.

He was still partly sure the wolf was tenderizing him to eat him later.

But, for some reason, he was holding off the panic. He was scared, sure, worried, definitely, but this was Derek. He knew that just as he knew that something in the wild animal knew him, too.

While the ground beneath him was cold, the hoodie was keeping his head warm and the wolf the rest of him.

Stiles just wished he wasn't lying on his keys.

*****

Somehow he must have dozed off, because the sound of a car brought him awake to confusion. Something was crushing his chest, his ass was cold, and there was this weird rumble and then a threatening growl...

Oh, right.

Stiles quickly opened his eyes to find the wolf awake, its head raised, a low, continuous growl sounding from its wide open, teeth-filled mouth.

"Stiles?"

Wait, that voice.

"Dad?" he choked out, trying to twist his head, only to have one heavy paw pin it down. "Don't, don't come any closer!"

"Is that...Derek?"

"Yeah, it has to be. I mean, a real wolf would have killed me and none of the other werewolves can shift to full wolf that I know of except Derek and this is his loft and...

"Stiles, hush," his dad said softly, and Stiles heard the sound of his boot heels slowly coming towards him.

The wolf growled loudly in warning and the sheriff stopped moving.

"Stiles, how long have you been here?"

"I...I dunno. What time is it?" It was obviously still night.

"Around 2:45. I got home from my shift about a half hour ago and you weren't home and you didn't answer your phone so I tracked the GPS." 

His dad's voice was low and conversational, but Stiles could hear the tension in it.

"Oh, I never turned it on after the pack meeting. I came looking for Derek a little after ten. I seem to have found him."

"Should I call Scott?"

"Yeah, and Deaton. Derek doesn't seem to be himself. I mean, he told me that when he's wolfed out, he's still him, but he doesn't seem to be right now and he won't let me go." His voice rose in panic and he squeaked when the wolf's tongue licked across his cheek and nose.

"Stiles, stay calm. He hasn't hurt you in four hours so it's unlikely he won't as long as you don't fight him. He hasn't hurt you, has he?"

"No, just uh licked me." Despite the cold, he can feel his cheeks redden in embarrassment. 

His dad moved away a few feet which seemed to settle the wolf--Derek, he might as well call him that, but he was just so unDerek like right now...

Suddenly, the wolf lifted up, shook itself, then moved to straddle Stiles before sitting back on its haunches on top of Stiles' thighs. He immediately, and confusedly, missed the warmth and wrapped his now free arms across his shivering torso.

Carefully, trying to appear as nonthreatening as possible and not challenge the wolf, he lifted his eyes to Derek, who cocked his head and let his tongue loll out one side of his mouth.

"God, I wish I could reach my phone and take a picture. You're so damn cute," Stiles murmured, his already poor brain to mouth filter obviously stolen by first the terror and now the complete absurdity of this situation.

Derek the wolf huffed and that had to be amusement.

"They're on their way," his dad said from somewhere to his left, but he was keeping his distance which seemed to put the massive beast on top of him at some level of ease as the growling had stopped and its tail was swishing against his calves.

"This is just so fucked up."

"Stiles, language."

Really? Really????

Stiles rolled his eyes. "Dad, I'm being held prisoner by my friend the giant wolf, I think I can swear if I want to."

Derek snorted.

Stiles snorted back.

His dad sighed heavily. "Son, your life, really."

"No fucking kidding."

Lowering his snout, Derek licked him right across the mouth.

"Gross, bunny breath!" But he couldn't help but laugh, one sharp sound, that wasn't at all hysterical.

And with a hard shake from head to tail, Derek turned human again and collapsed completely naked on top of Stiles.

"Fuck. My. Life."

A few minutes later, wrapped in a gray standard issue police blanket, confused and dirty, Derek sank down onto this couch and accepted the glass of water from Stiles' hand with his own shaky one.

Stiles perched next to him while his dad went into the kitchen to make some calls, including one to Scott to call him off, though they all agreed that Deaton examining Derek was a good idea. "So...what the hell, dude?"

Shooting him a baleful look, Derek took a sip of water, then winced. "My mouth tastes like death."

"My guess, dead bunny or some other varmint."

Derek sighed and set the glass down. "Witches broke in here, woke me up. I don't know why, but they put me under a spell, made me forget I was human. I don't remember much. The forest. Drinking from streams. I just...I knew I had to get home. And, then, you. I saw you. Did I...hurt you?"

"No. Scared me, but you seemed...I dunno, like you were protecting me."

"I recognized you as pack, though..." Derek's eyebrows went up and his lips twisted. "Little Red Riding Hood, really Stiles?"

Stiles rolled his eyes. "The big bad wolf didn't try to eat me, though."

"Your scent, pack scent, saturates the thing."

He dug his nose into his sleeve and wrinkled it at the smell--his own scent along with wolf. "Probably a good thing I forgot it was in my jeep and haven't washed it in months."

Derek nodded in agreement.

"So, do you know what turned you human again? Broke the spell?"

"I...I think maybe because you were no longer scared of me? You relaxed and accepted me?"

"Huh. Go me." Stiles scooted a bit closer until their bodies were touching from shoulder to thigh. "So, what was with all the licking?"

Derek's ears turned red.

"Derek," Stiles coaxed. "Derrrreeeeekkkk."

"My wolf likes you, okay?" Derek finally grumbled under his breath. "It...I...recognize you as a potential mate."

All thoughts of teasing gone, Stiles felt his eyes go wide and his breath catch in his throat. "...What?"

Derek started to slide away from him and Stiles grabbed his arm to stop him, sending the blanket slipping down so his fingers wrapped around skin. "You...you don't have to...Look, it along with the scent are probably what kept you safe from me. Just leave it at that."

"Oh Hell no." And Stiles twisted around to press his lips to Derek's. For a moment the older man froze, but then responded to the kiss. A loud knocking on the door broke them apart and they stared into each others eyes, both shining. "We're going to forget that our first kiss was a wolfy one. That was it, got it?"

"Got it," Derek whispered, his free hand coming up to cup Stiles' cheek.

The knocking grew persistent.

"What are you two doing that you can't answer the door?" Stiles' dad grumbled as he walked into the room and froze at the sight of them. As Stiles and Derek froze as well, Stiles half on Derek's lap, hand on his arm, lips pink from kissing, he shook himself and sighed before continuing towards the door. "When Deaton's done examining you, Derek, we're going to have a long talk about my underage son."

"Dad!" 

"Yes, sir," Derek replied earnestly and manhandled Stiles off his lap.

"No, more kissing..." Stiles whined.

"He's going to shoot me," Derek hissed at the same time the Sheriff grumbled, "I have wolfsbane bullets and know how to use them."

End


End file.
